Beneath Black Feathers
by Manda-chan
Summary: AU - A set of short glimpses into the past, mind, and heart of Nacht, Prince of the Ravens. ...Also known as Fakir. FxA leanings.
1. The Beginning

AN: I thought I would make a separate little story to store the fics ideas I had for this particular concept, since it's out of the norm and I imagine there might eventually be quite a few drabbles and fics included in this.

First and foremost, this is definitely an AU situation - basically it has the roles from the story swapped around (namely, Fakir and Rue have switched and Ahiru and Mytho have switched). And I've actually been role-playing this Raven!Fakir, or Nacht, rather, at an LJ RP. Thus this delving into his backstory and such is useful for me in developing his character. So it will focus mainly on Fakir - and always be from his POV. Though Ahiru will also play an important part, since she's a huge part of his character's development.

I apologize if these might be difficult to follow. They're mainly meant to be a reference for me and for his character, and I imagine some of it would be difficult to follow if you're not familiar with the concept and the RP. If you're interested, however, feel free to message me about any questions you might have. I'll do my best to answer them. If you'd like a brief overview of his character, you can check out his profile from the RP: http(colon)(slash slash)www(dot)livejournal(dot)com(slash)users(slash)dustere(underscore)nacht -- and if you do decide to check that out, if there's anything you'd like to see clarified or fleshed out in fic form like this, let me know!

That said, I hope you will enjoy these!

Disclaimer: Princess Tutu and all of its characters do not belong to me.

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**Beneath Black Feathers**

Excerpt 1: _The Beginning_

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A young boy with dark hair and green eyes, no older than five, hummed under his breath as he passed a line of trees. In one hand, he waved a stick in the air, rhythm offbeat with the pattern of his footfalls and the dull marching tune reverberating in his throat, and in the other hand were loose pieces of parchment, clutched tightly in his small fingers.

As he reached the bank overlooking the river some three feet above the rushing waters, he came to a halt. The humming ceased and he plopped down to the ground with a sigh, tossing the twig down into the current and watching as the water carried it swiftly under the bridge and out of sight.

" '_Go play outside' _they say," the boy mocked with a frown. " '_Don't waste such a nice day by staying indoors_.' "

He seized a stone laying next to him and chucked it into the water, where it landed with a 'kerplunk'.

"They must think that I don't notice or understand..." he spoke to himself, throwing a second rock in to the join the first. "But I know the _real_ reason. I'm not stupid."

Another sigh escaped the boy's lips as he flopped onto his back, holding the parchment above him and scanning it with a troubled expression. He knew that this was why his parents were all too persistent in getting him out more. To discourage him from writing - the one thing he loved to do above all else.

And Fakir didn't understand their view. Writing was fun! And it was way better to create amazing adventures on paper than it was to play pretend with sticks and leaves. Yet his parents acted as though his attachment to writing was a problem. And it was always the same excuse! Always that he needed to go out and make friends and get out of the house more. Why couldn't they just let him do what he wanted to? Why couldn't they understand that he didn't want to make friends with the other kids in town? They all thought he was weird, anyway.

If he had his stories... he was happy. Why was that a bad thing? Why did they want him to be unhappy?

He knew there was more to it than they were letting on, too. Sometimes his mom hid his quills, sometimes he found his stories mysteriously missing from where he left them...

The dark-haired boy blinked up at the papers suspended above his face, the light wind rattling the edges against one another. He had hidden this story with a couple others underneath a loose floorboard in his room - a hiding place his mother hadn't discovered. It was about a boy who talked to birds. Every day, he brought them scraps of bread and cheese from his home and in return they taught the boy how to fly.

It was one of his favorites. Many times he had dreamed of flying. There was a freedom in the air that just didn't compare to being stuck with both feet in the ground. And the sky was so big... it would go on forever... and there would be so much to explore...

A little smile curled up the corners of his mouth as he lowered the papers and folded his arms down to hold them securely over his chest - almost like locking them into an embrace. Even if his parents didn't like writing and didn't want to listen to his stories and even if the other kids in Kinkan didn't like his works either, it didn't matter. He had something special - something he valued - even if he only had himself to share it with.

Fakir stared up to the clouds passing overhead and briefly closed his eyes, letting the wind ruffle his hair as he inhaled deeply. Maybe one day soon, he could embark on a real adventure, just like in his stories. And as long as he kept writing until then, he could keep that dream alive. He was certain of it.

Green eyes edged open again, allowing him another look to the brilliant cerulean dome above before he freed one arm and used it to push himself back up into a sitting position.

Was this long enough? Could he go back home and sneak back into his room to finish his newest story?

As if to interrupt that train of thought, a brisk wind suddenly blew by, and took with it the very topmost sheet of the boy's little stack of parchment. With a cry of shock, he leapt to his feet and groped unsuccessfully for the flying page as it floated high above the river. And with his gaze glued to the escaping paper, he completely missed the crumble of rock and earth that gave way beneath his shoes until it was too late to prevent the inevitable. His arms spread, as if hoping he too could fly on the wind, but down he fell - down and into the raging current of the cold river with a splash.

Fakir struggled briefly once he was submerged, his stubby arms and legs wiggling and thrashing in attempt to get back to the surface. But the strong will of the current forced him deeper down into the dark depths, and the final pages of his story broke free from his grip and disappeared with the pull of the water. He opened his mouth to call for help, but the liquid surrounding him quickly dove into the open space and filled his small lungs with water.

Just before he surrendered to the heavy pull of unconsciousness, Fakir thought he saw something that looked like _fire_ streaking through the water.

Then everything faded to black.

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It felt cold.

That was the first thing he noticed when he came to.

Blearily, his green eyes blinked open and he coughed, sending a small splurge of water from his mouth. His vision quickly adapted to the light and he blinked the droplets of liquid from his eyelashes, chest heaving as he rolled his head forward to look up at the sky.

"What just....GAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

The first thing his fully focused eyes were met with were a pair of unfamiliar blue ones that hovered above, staring at him blankly from a face he didn't recognize. Wet red hair framed and clung to the girl's face and dripped down upon him, dotting his already-dampened cheeks.

"You're alive," she said.

For a moment, he was frozen in place as he stared back at her with wide eyes, unsure of whether to be scared or not. Finally regaining control over his limbs, he raised up to his elbows and backed away a little, sputtering a bit more excess water from his mouth.

"W-Who are you?" he croaked, never once tearing his gaze away from the drenched redhead.

She blinked slowly and serenely back at him, not at all unnerved by his reaction. "I don't know."

At that, his eyes narrowed suspiciously, studying the young woman. She was too old to be a kid like him, but a little too young to be an adult. Her hair was a vivid, bright shade of red, and ran all the way down her back to where it curled on the ground beside her legs. Freckles dusted across her nose and her hands lay folded in her lap over what looked almost like a nightdress - which was just as soaked as his clothing was. But perhaps her most alarming feature was her eyes - they were a deep blue that seemed to go on forever - deep and... empty.

Fakir opened his mouth to say she HAD to know who she was and that she was being stupid, but the words never escaped. All at once, he remembered what just happened and realized why the girl was just as wet as he was. He stared at her with a mixture of awe and confusion.

"You... you saved me."

It wasn't a question. He knew it had to be her. The impossible fire underwater that he had seen... it must have been her hair!

And sure enough, the girl gave a small nod to affirm it. "I saw you fall into the river."

"But why did you save me?"

Curiosity urged the question to tumble out before he could prevent it, and Fakir felt his cheeks grow a little warm in embarrassment. He really should've just been thankful that she saved him. She probably wouldn't like all these questions...

But to his surprise, the redhead didn't appear at all affronted by his question - as a matter of fact, she didn't seem to show any emotion on her features at all. "I saw you fall and you didn't come back up. So I went after you."

He stared into her dull blue gaze briefly before he tore his eyes away. There was something not right about her eyes. He couldn't explain it, but it was definitely weird. "I uh... thanks. For saving me."

With his gaze torn away from her, it took him a moment to realize that she was holding something out to him. Turning tentatively back toward the girl, his eyes broadened in surprise when they landed on the object outstretched to him. In her hand, she extended a crisp piece of parchment - one with ink markings he recognized even at a mere glance. "My story!" he burst out in excitement, a smile lighting up his face as he gingerly took the paper from her hand. "You found it!"

"Over there." She pointed her finger across the bank. "The wind took it over there and it got stuck in the tree."

He clutched the paper happily in front of him, and all of his earlier suspicions of the odd girl vanished when he looked up at her again. "You're---you... wow. I dunno what to say. I'm sure anyone else wouldn't have done that, and I'm lucky that you came along when I fell, so I'm really--"

"You tried to fly. Like the boy in the story."

Fakir nearly fumbled the paper she had retrieved upon hearing those words, his mouth dropping open as he met her empty-eyed gaze.

"You spread your arms like a bird," she continued, as though talking about something as mundane as the weather. "Just like the boy did. But you didn't fly like him."

Finally regaining his composure, he scooted closer to the girl and looked rapidly back and forth between her and the story held in his hands. "You read it?"

She nodded.

He shyly lowered his head, voice suddenly small. "And you don't... you don't think it's bad?"

She paused, and then said, "Am I supposed to?"

"No!" Fakir felt his cheeks grow red again. "I didn't mean it like that! I'm just not used to... well... I mean, what did you think of it? You'll tell me it was good, right? 'Cause you're not like the others. I can tell."

"It was good."

A wide grin split his face. "Really? You really think so?"

Her head tilted to the side. "I don't know."

"Wha...?" He frowned, staring back at her with furrowed brows. "But you just said it was good!"

"You wanted me to tell you it was good. So I did."

More heat flooded to his face, making the boy's head appear not unlike a ripened cherry. "B-But! Well! Of course I wanted you to like it! But I thought you'd still tell me what you really thought! You don't _have_ to like it---no one else does!"

She merely stared back at him with blank features, no sign of anger, or guilt, or anything. He hoisted himself to his feet. "Well, that doesn't matter, I guess." Despite his words, the tone was definitely dejected, but he quickly forced another smile at the girl. "I still owe you a lot. And... and I'll find some way to pay you back! But I kinda better get home... mom is probably not gonna be happy that I got my clothes all wet."

The nameless redhead nodded mutely.

Fakir turned his gaze down to the grass and shuffled his feet, looking down at her through a gap in his dark green bangs. "Say, uh... meet me here again tomorrow, if you can."

She blinked her empty blue eyes back at him. "Okay."

"Great!" He flashed another grin. "I'm Fakir, by the way! Maybe we could be friends?"

"If Fakir wants to be."

"Then---I'll see you tomorrow!" He gave her one last smile before he turned on heel and ran back in the direction of his house.

Something inside of him spoke of change - this girl, this close shave with death, this meeting, the story... something important - maybe even life-changing - had just occurred. He could feel it.

And now he would no longer fight his parents' demands to go outside again.

Not that he had any intentions of telling them why.

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And that's it for this little piece - which is, just as the title of it says, the beginning. I'm sure I don't need to clarify who the redhead with blue eyes is, right? Hahaha.

I also realize this has nothing to do yet with Fakir going all raven. That comes eventually - but his experiences before that change and development are very important, because they will later reflect on him, even subconsciously. And I did always want to write the scene of how they first met. So what better thing to start with?

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it. Feedback is always welcome and appreciated!

Thank you for reading.


	2. Origins

A/N: Long time no see, huh? I've been feeling somewhat motivated lately, and I felt a spark for this story/collection in particular. Here's to hoping this fic might get back off of its feet again! I've really missed writing and exploring this concept.

**Disclaimer**: Princess Tutu and all of its character do not belong to me. They belong to the wonderful Itoh Ikuko and HAL films. I'm just borrowing them for fanfiction purposes.

* * *

**Beneath Black Feathers**

Excerpt 2: _Origin_

To Fakir's delight, the nameless redheaded girl was still there when he returned the next day. It was odd, but he almost thought it looked as though she hadn't moved at all.

The young boy was too excited to dwell on that, however. He hadn't been interested in making friends before, but he also hadn't expected to find anyone he could tell his stories to or share them with. Through the discovery of this girl, he found something to truly look forward to.

She was attentive. Whenever he read to her, she listened closely, almost as if she were trying to soak up every word. And yet her eyes never gained any gleam to them that reflected the desire to know more and she never asked questions. It was confusing to Fakir. He could not tell whether she truly enjoyed his stories or not.

Yet she always said that she did. And somehow, even if there was no conviction behind those dead words, the dark-haired boy reveled in it. Just to hear her say it was enough for now. It was more than he ever could have hoped for before.

And while the girl showed no spark of curiosity about him or even the things around them, Fakir found himself becoming more and more intrigued by her as the days passed. She started to show that she was more than just an empty shell - there were still bits and pieces inside.

He just had to find them.

* * *

On the fifth day, a bird had dropped by and fluttered down, interrupting Fakir's reciting of his latest story with a loud cawing. Irritated with the unwanted arrival, the boy got to his feet and tried to chase the black winged creature away.

"Raven."

He abruptly paused in his shooing motions, blinking back at the redhead with mild surprise reflecting in his green eyes. It was the first time she had shown independent interest in something all on her own, aside from the time she had saved him from the river. His brows raised.

"I'll make it go away," he assured her quickly. Then, he puffed his chest out almost proudly. "Don't worry, I won't let it hurt you."

But she wasn't even looking at the bird any longer. Her soulless eyes fell on Fakir, instead. "Where is the raven?"

"Huh?" The bird was still obviously cawing away right in front of them, avoiding the boy's kicks in its direction. "It's... it's right here! Can't you see it?" She couldn't be blind, he reasoned quickly. Even if the luster of her blue eyes was lacking, she had read his story when they first met. That definitely required sight.

"Where is the raven?" she repeated, still looking at him. Her eyes were blank, but he almost thought he could feel a strange intensity to them that hadn't been there before.

However, Fakir was getting exasperated. Why was she suddenly being stupid? The dumb bird was directly in front of them! "I told you! It's right-"

"The raven. I have to..." She trailed off and looked down at the grass, blinked once, and raised her eyes to meet his once more. "I don't remember."

Finally, the bird took flight and departed. Fakir was no longer paying it any attention, though. He squatted down beside the girl, eyes narrowing as he scrutinized her face. "...You have amnesia?" How he didn't consider that until now, the boy didn't know. It seemed obvious. She didn't have a name or even seem to know where she was. That meant her entire memory was _missing_?

The term was obviously just as familiar to the redhead as everything else, however - which was to say not at all. She merely looked at him with her eerie calmness. "I don't know."

Fakir scoffed, righting himself again. "Of course you don't. If you _did_ know, you wouldn't have it!"

"I wouldn't," she said, but it wasn't either a question or a statement.

Reaching down, the young boy patted the top of her head where she sat. "Well, I'm gonna help you get your memory back!"

It was like a quest or an adventure, and he could feel a thrill rising in him at the very thought. One day, he could even write a story about it! Surely that was a tale people would find worth reading!

* * *

They fell into something of a habitual pattern in days following. Fakir would return each day with new ideas to try to bring her memory back. Though creative in his attempts, the boy hadn't yet found a breakthrough that reached the girl or unearthed anything noteworthy about her. She was largely unresponsive unless he brought up ravens once more. But even when he came up with every raven reference or story he could possibly think of, she still could not recall what the significance was.

And it wasn't until the ninth day that he finally discovered something important.

When Fakir came to greet her that afternoon (and feed her, as he had also periodically started to bring food once he realized she wouldn't find nourishment of her own accord), the package in his arms spilled out over the grass the moment his eyes landed upon her.

"_What happened_?" he exclaimed, instantly coming to her side, his eyes alight with panic. She was blemished with scrapes and bruises on her face, arms, and legs. And she looked as infuriatingly calm about it as ever, merely staring back at him, her hands folded in her lap.

"A rabbit," she spoke with serene emptiness in her tone. Her hand pointed to the stone wall nearby. "It was trapped. And there was a cat. I freed it."

Just the facts, spoken evenly, not a shred of emotion or even the slightest hint of pain or discomfort in her voice. Fakir gaped at her. "You freed... a rabbit? Up there?" She nodded. "And what happened? How did you get all bruised up?"

Her gaze traveled over to the wall. "The cat."

The girl's simple answers were even more annoying when he didn't understand the details. Fakir scowled at the stone structure before turning the expression back on her. "Why did you fight with a cat? You could have just freed the rabbit and left it alone!"

"It was stuck," she told him, still speaking as though the subject matter was as interesting as the dirt on her bare feet. And to her, it probably was. "I had to protect it. The cat scratched. And I fell. I did not let the rabbit go until it was gone."

Fakir's mouth fell open, eyes widening with the new information. "You protected it..." he repeated. "You... _wanted_ to protect it?" His voice was almost hopeful.

"Yes," she answered with no hesitation, though there was still not a drop of anything remotely like emotion in her voice. "I must protect what cannot protect itself."

He stared at her in silence. Suddenly, his throat felt very dry. He wished he had his quill and paper with him so he could write down her words - this was surely a breakthrough and he didn't want to forget this moment. Taking a shuddering breath, he forced his lips to move, intent gaze never leaving the endless blue of her eyes. "...Why?"

His voice was barely a whisper, but she seemed to have heard him regardless. "I don't know."

And maybe she didn't, he thought. But he was reminded just a little bit of a story... a part of a story he read not too long ago.

Resolved, he got to his feet. "Wait here," he instructed, turning around. "I'm going to get some bandages or something. You can't keep open wounds like that, dummy." His words were chiding, but inside, his heart was hammering. Somehow, he just _knew_ that this was the lead he was waiting for - the answer. "I'll be right back."

* * *

True to his words, he returned just a few minutes later, panting hard from having run the full distance to and from his house back to the girl. And aside from a roll of bandages and a bottle of ointment meant to treat her injuries, he was carrying just one more thing with him: a book that was lodged under his left arm. For the moment, he set the latter item aside, eyes lingering on the cover bearing a raven and a crown for a split second before he turned his full attention to the redheaded girl again.

Wordlessly, Fakir set about cleaning her wounds and scrapes, applying the ointment (which she didn't even flinch away from, he noted) and bandaging her up where it was needed. Once that was done, he settled himself beside her, squirming slightly back and forth and looking as though he had been caught doing something he shouldn't have. It wasn't until almost a full minute afterward that he looked up at her, almost shyly, but with an underlying determination present in his eyes.

"Can I... Can I check something?" he ventured uncertainly, despite already knowing that she wouldn't have cared one way or the other. But this... this would either solidify everything or force him to start searching all over again. His heart beat faster and faster and-

"Fakir can," was all that she said.

Before he could lose his nerve, the boy reached out to press his palm over the nightgown she wore - right over the area of her heart.

And when he felt nothing beating beneath his fingers, his own heart skipped one. "I know who you are," he spoke almost breathlessly, as though he couldn't believe it himself. His hand quaked slightly as he pulled it away from her, wide green eyes glued to her face. Fumbling, he reached blindly down for the book and held it up to her.

"This is your story," he told her, voice wavering between awe and disbelief. "You're the princess who lost her heart."

"The princess who lost her heart," she repeated monotonously.

He nodded, swallowing down hard as he pealed back the cover of the book. "The selfless princess. You sealed away a monster raven by shattering your own heart because your words couldn't sway it from destroying your kingdom. The king wanted to declare war, but you wouldn't allow it. You wouldn't fight against it. You gave up... _everything_. To protect your people."

And the more he spoke of it, the more it all made sense. She remembered the Raven. Even without her own emotions, she recognized significance of that term - not the bird, but the Monster Raven that she sealed away. And she protected the rabbit, without a shred of care for her own safety, rescued Fakir from the river when he fell, showed no emotion no matter what did did to get her to react...

Right before him, with blank blue eyes and brilliant red hair like the setting sun, was a story brought to life.

A story that had no ending.

However, Fakir was not selfless like the heartless princess. This was not a story that he wanted to share with anyone.

* * *

"That part."

"Why do you keep interrupting?" Fakir's frustrated voice demanded of his companion, expression clearly irritated as he glanced up at her from where he sat propped against her side. The book entitled "The Princess and the Raven" was held up in his hands between them. "You wanted me to read it to you again, didn't you? Why do you want to stop at the part about the stupid prince?"

When her blank, luminous blue eyes looked at him, though, he knew he couldn't deny her, even if he couldn't see what she found so interesting about this Prince Siegfried character. He was boring! All the story even said about him was that he confessed his love for the Princess and vanished. Who cared about that mushy stuff? Good riddance to him. Gruffly, the boy sighed. "Don't you want to hear about where you save the kingdom instead? It's a lot more interesting..."

"The prince," she spoke evenly, shifting to look at the book and pointing to the single picture on the page. "He's gone."

"That's right," he snorted. "And you don't need a worthless prince who just disappears like that. He hardly served any purpose to the story at all. Forget about him."

"The prince..."

Losing his temper, the boy shot to his feet, throwing the book down to the ground. The redhead didn't even flinch. "_Forget_ the prince! He's gone! He disappeared! And if you want a prince so bad, then... then..."

She blinked back up at him innocently. And for a moment, Fakir could fully imagine her with a shining crown of gold and lavish dress, smiling back at him.

"When I grow up... _I'll_ be your prince."

* * *

A/N: I felt the sudden inspiration to write another part of this. And the pull was so strong that I even had to set aside the other idea I was currently working on developing to give all of my attention to it. There might be another part of this soon, if the inspiration keeps flowing. I hope you're enjoying it so far.

Be patient for the raven prince. He'll come eventually. I wanted to flesh out more of the back story, first, to establish just how he's different from Rue/Kraehe in the series and why.

Any questions or comments you may have are welcome and appreciated!

Thank you for reading.


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